Shore Leave
by WafflingToa
Summary: A collection of oneshots/drabbles. Log Six. Prompt: Odd. "Is that a rubber duck in your locker?"
1. Nicknames: Virginia & California

**********Log One  
Prompt: **Nicknames******  
Setting: **Project Freelancer******  
Characters:** Agent North Dakota, Agent Virginia, Agent California  
**Pairing: **One-sided North X Virginia.  
**Warning:** OC Characters. Light Sexual Fantasies on Virginia's behalf. Immature Nicknames.

* * *

"Virginia… Virginia!"

Agent Virginia blinked back to awareness from her infatuated stare at Agent North Dakota, back to the man in steel blue armor sitting across the table from her, stuffing a burger into his mouth, Agent California.

"Sorry, what'd you say, Calli?" She asked in a dry and unamused tone, clearly not happy with having been interrupted from her daydreams of mounting North like the stallion he was and –

"That!" She glared at him for interrupting her fantasy _again_ as he swallowed a mouthful of burger, "Why do you insist on calling me 'Calli'?!" He demanded in an annoyed tone.

"Because it's short for California." She stated in a matter-of-fact-tone, staring at him as if he was stupid.

Her friend made an odd face. "Yeah, but Calli sounds like a _girl's_ name."

"… And?"

"I'm not a girl!"

She gave an annoyed sigh, going back to staring at Agent North as he watched a display of holographic fireworks from Theta, his A.I. fragment partner. "Well, what do you _want_ me to call you, Calli?"

"I don't know! … Something more… masculine?"

Virginia paused then looked at him with an odd grin on her face. "I could call you '_Forni-cate_'."

"…"

"…"

"On second thought, Calli's fine."

"Good."

* * *

**A/N: **These will be short, drabblish, oneshot type fics for my own amusement. Any OC's I include will be minimalistic in description appearance. Please feel free to leave requests (WITH a prompt, I will not do anything without one) of varying shippings, crack, drama, angst, etc. I will do whatever the heck floats my boat at the time. Please review. Thankies.


	2. Shadow: Church X Texas

**********Log Two  
Prompt: **Shadow******  
Setting: **Season 9  
**Characters:** Agent Texas, Allison, Alpha-Church, Epsilon-Church.  
**Pairing: **Church X Texas  
**Warning: **Angst. Angst. ANGSTTTTTT.

* * *

To call her a shadow was an insult.

Tex both was and wasn't Allison.

Allison hadn't been half the bitch Tex was. She was strong yes, in her own way, and yes, she had a pretty fowl mouth on her when she was pissed off.

But Allison had been… kinder? Was that the right word?

She'd smiled more, laughed more and was more tolerant of others.

She was… _happier_.

While Allison would snap at you and threaten you for treating the jeep wrong, Texas was more likely to shoot you in the foot for being a fucking idiot.

It wasn't to say Texas didn't care in her own way, however fucked up that was, she just seemed to not have the same patience for people.

Church-Alpha-Epsilon, whatever, blames himself for this. When he'd been 'born', the Director was still hurting over Allison's memory, and the strength of that memory had been enough to create Beta.

At first, everything seemed okay. The Director had at first been overjoyed over Beta, over his beloved Allison returning to him.

But it wasn't enough. Beta was taken away from Alpha, and even as he had persistently asked about her, he received nothing but orders to forget. But how could he forget _her_?

When he'd next heard about Beta, she was now Agent Texas. She was colder, more merciless and definitely more of a bitch. She was no longer Beta, no longer a memory of Allison.

She was Agent Texas.

Alpha had only guesses of what the Director must've gone done, in his attempts to find out how he could use Beta to recreate Allison. From what he knew of Allison, he could only guess this was the logical reaction to having been reborn unwillingly, a memory of lost love and failure, before being taken away from her 'creator' and tortured in some mad attempt to recreate Allison.

Allison had been hopes and dreams and future potential untapped.

Texas was bitter regret and failure.

Failure to see her again. Failure for her to come home safely. Failure to say goodbye.

But she was still anything but a shadow.

She lived were Allison had fallen, a new life born from an old memory. She was no longer a memory and he doubted she'd ever been a shadow of who Allison had been. She was her own person. She had been both stronger and weaker then Allison.

Epsilon realised something his past incarnates were incapable of doing so.

He was the failure, not her.

He did only insult, to both the memory of Allison and to person Texas was by continuing to drag her along, when all she wanted to do was rest.

She deserved more than anyone to rest.

He reminds himself this as he whispers, "I forget you.

I'm letting you go."


	3. Dead: Washington-centric

**********Log Three  
Prompt: **Dead******  
Setting: **Project Freelancer/Recovery One  
**Characters:** Agent Washington. Agent North Dakota.  
**Pairing: **North X Washington if you squint hard enough.  
**Warning: **Oh humanity, thy name is angst.

* * *

Project Freelancer is dead.

The Director can say what he wants, but he's not fooling anyone at this point.

C.T. is dead.

Wyoming is gone. York is gone. Texas is gone. Maine is gone. Florida is gone.

Carolina is dead.

From the 49 of them gathered, only a handful remain now, taking care of former friends that have gone rogue or been killed in action, continuing their training with the simulation troopers. Continuing on like nothing had changed.

Everything had changed.

Washington knew.

Even though he pretended to play dumb, that the only side effects of Epsilon were the headaches and night terrors, he knew. He knew what the director had done, to Alpha, to Theta, to Delta, to _himself_.

He hates the Director now, when he'd once been his trusting duckling. He hates who he is and who he's become.

But he hates _himself _most for staying.

On the good nights, when the memories aren't hounding him, he lets his mind wonder.

Sometimes he wonders what would've happened if he'd never received Epsilon, brief as their connection was.

Sometimes he wonders what would've happened if he'd taken off with York.

Sometimes he wonders where the others declared MIA are.

They can't be dead, he'd know. He'd be one of the first to know. It's his job now after all, to take care of former friends, dispose of their bodies like they were garbage with no trace left behind.

But even with his new job, it doesn't stop him wondering how the others are.

He wonders if Wyoming still makes those stupid knock-knock jokes. He wonders if Georgia still has his lucky penny. He wonders if Texas, no, _Allison, _is still as bitchy and badass as ever.

North is the only one left that he still trusts.

There's still South of course, but she was never all that friendly to begin with and became even less so when the A.I. project was officially shut down.

"_Because of YOU,"_ He can still hear her sneer in his mind.

So he both clings to North because he's all he has left and pushes him away because he's terrified that he'll be gone the next day.

North just smiles easily at him whenever he voices his fears, "Don't worry so much, Wash. We won't leave you alone anytime soon, isn't that right, Theta?"

The pink and purple hologram of the A.I. chirps a happy response that Wash doesn't really hear; he winces every time he sees Theta now.

But even North's kind smile doesn't ease his fears.

He's just finished detonating York's armour when he receives the call from Command. _'That's the 5__th__ one this month alone.'_ He thinks bitterly to himself after he's answered the call, it didn't even occur to him at the time which one of his former friends he'd be blowing up next.

But Wash is almost not surprised when he finds himself standing over North's body when he arrives. He'd seen this coming, whether or not North had or not.

Everyone was gone.

He'd stopped crying over dead friends after his second recovery mission, when he attached the detonator to Montana's cold corpse.

He's beyond crying when he does the same to North's body.


	4. Kids: North X Virginia

**********Log Four  
Prompt: **Kids******  
Setting: **Project Freelancer  
**Characters:** Agent North Dakota. Agent Virginia. Theta.  
**Pairing: **North X Virginia.  
**Warning: **Fluff. OC.

* * *

North arrived back at his quarters after a successful attempt at getting Theta to calm down enough to 'sleep' and was surprised to find the other occupant of his bed still awake as well, skimming through a cosmos magazine.

"What are you still doing up?" He asked softly, so not to 'wake' Theta as he put his clipboard on his desk. "I thought you dozed off a while ago."

Virginia just smiled easily and tossed her magazine onto the bedside table as she began to watch him peel off his sweatpants. "Woke up a few moments ago, saw you'd taken off and, well, hard to sleep without you here."

North smiled as he threw his pants onto a nearby chair. "You know how it is, he gets too… 'anxious' too sleep sometimes." He beckoned his head over at her. "You're the same too, ya know."

She pouted. "Untrue! I just find it hard to sleep when you're not here." She immediately moved to snuggle up against him happily as he slowly slid in beside her and yawned endearingly, as if to prove her point.

He hushed her softly, kissing her forehead. "Not so loud. You'll wake Theta up." He reasoned gently.

Virginia just chuckled drowsily. "You sound like you're talking about a kid, not a computer program."

North didn't respond to that and just held her in his arms for the moment as she yawned.

"You know, you'll make a great dad someday, North…" She mumbled dozily before she nodded off.

North blinked gently down at his lover but found himself smiling and kissing her forehead again. "Yeah… Someday…" He whispered hopefully before dozing off himself.


	5. Rain: Grif X Simmons

**********Log Five  
Prompt: **Rain for KnightlyWordsmith******  
Setting: **Season 11******  
Characters:** Red Team, Blue Team  
**Pairing: **Grif X Simmons  
**Warning:** Fluff. M/M pairing.

* * *

It hardly rained in Blood Gulch.

In the entire time he had been stationed there, Grif could count the number of times it had rained on one hand. He only bothered to remember the days because they were so far and few in between and because they were the only days Sarge willingly took off.

"Too slippery," The older man would grumble as he nursed a bottle of bourbon while watching a game of grifball on the UNSN. "Bad traction for the feet and wheels and … and… whatnot…"

Grif didn't complain, he was a slacker at heart anyway and enjoyed the time off, and the cooling water was a welcome relief from the dry atmosphere the canyon usually offered. The Blues didn't bother to attack either (when did they ever?), so hey, win-win.

The rain usually reminded him of home anyway, of the cool ocean breeze and the water lapping at the beach, so he always found himself sitting outside under a makeshift shelter with a beer, a cigarette and his bacon-flavoured marshmallows.

It rained a lot more in their makeshift camps in what Sarge had referred to as 'Exile', but the 'no-fighting-when-it -rained' rule still seemed to apply here (of course, there was always the question of 'are we even still fighting?' hung in the air) and even Washington, with a stick so far up his ass that Grif was constantly surprised he wasn't coughing up splinters, seemed to abide by that rule.

So on this cool, rainy day, Grif sat back against the makeshift porch of Red Base, only bothering to wear his armour because of Washington's paranoid instance, lighting up a cigarette and nursing a cooled beer as he watched Caboose happily chase his new 'friend' around the camp, pretending to be playing ball with him and Tucker do his best NOT to get hit with a missile from the MANTIS.

"Why do you insist on continuing to corrode _my _lungs and poison _my _liver like that?"

Grif rolled his eyes, but pulled a grin onto his face and turned to the source of the voice, Simmons, who was standing to his side, with a frown caressing his features.

"Because I love pissing you off, kiss-arse." He remarked coolly as he took another sip of his beer before blinking as a plate was shoved in his hands.

Grif frowned, looking at the sandwich on the neat, white plate now in his hands. "… What's this?"

Simmons looked at him as if he was an idiot. "Food, what do you think it is?"

"I mean, what's it for?"

"Eating."

"No I mean –"

"Just eat, dipshit."

Grif stared at Simmons as he took a seat beside him, taking a bite of his own sandwich. Apparently getting no more of an answer, he cautiously slumped back against the makeshift shelter, biting into his sandwich as well, which was surprisingly good, not that he'd ever admit that to Simmons and mumbled a thank you as they watched Caboose chase the giant Mantis mech around.

After they'd finished eating and the rain had let up enough, Caboose happily suggested they all attempt to play a game of grifball. As Donut whined that he didn't want to stain his pink (Sorry, 'lightish-red') armour with mud, Simmons hesitantly looked at Grif. "How about it?"

Grif raised an eyebrow. "I thought you didn't play sports."

"Yeah, well you don't either, you lazy fuck."

"So why'd you ask?"

Simmons went quiet and Grif blinked before an odd grin broke out over his face and he grabbed the maroon soldiers' hand and dragged him towards the makeshift field. "You'd be hopeless without me." He whispers, still grinning oddly. His heart skips a beat when he feels Simmons hand squeeze his own.

Grif remembered the days it rained at Blood Gulch because they were far and few between, he'll remember the days it rained at Exile because they were precious to him, whether or not he'd admit it.


	6. Odd: Maryland & Washington

**********Log Six  
Prompt: **Odd for krikanalo******  
Setting: **Project Freelancer******  
Characters:** Agent Washington, Agent Maryland, Wash's Rubber Duck  
**Pairing: **N/A  
**Warning:** Random and cute friendship bonding

* * *

"Washington?"

Wash turned his head from rummaging around in his locker at the sound of distinctly British (And thankfully, distinctly female) accent and smiled brightly when he saw a pair of concerned dark brown eyes against a pale face. "Oh, hey, Maryland, did you only just get back – "

Maryland held up a hand to silence him and started again. "No pleasantries, Wash, just answer the question," She pointed behind him, into his locker. "Is that a _rubber duck_ in your locker?"

Wash blinked innocently under his visor, turning briefly to look behind him. "Um… yeah, I guess? Why?"

"…Wash, you're a soldier."

Wash nodded happily in response.

"And you have a rubber duck."

He nodded happily again.

"In your locker?"

Wash simply blinked again. "Um… yes?"

Pause.

Wash suddenly found himself swept up against Maryland's smaller frame in a tight, getting a face full of her pale blonde hair in process, as she squealed softly. "Oh, you are just too precious, love! Like a little duckling yourself!"

Wash just blinked, confused and unsure what to do with his hands crushed against his sides as he let her squeeze him happily. He was more than strong enough to push her off, but Wash being Wash, decided to humour her until she let go, smiled and patted him on the head before happily walking off, saying something about how she needed a good cup of tea.

He stared after her for a while before shaking his head, retrieving a new silly straw for lunch (blue this time, his favourite) and closing his locker.

What an odd conversation.


End file.
